The Broken Prophecy
by KatherineLynn
Summary: When Harry and Ron decide to drop out of school, Hermione attends her final year alone; Snape must teach Malfoy how to be the next Snape; Harry and Ron attempt to find all of the Horcruxes.
1. Cowardice and Protection

A/N: I haven't done a fanfiction in a really long time, because I've been swamped with graudate school, theatre, work, and all kinds of stuff that generally takes up a lot of time and money. However, I've realized that fanfiction really keeps me sane and grounded and I really miss writing it, so here I am again, your humble servant.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I just came up with the plot today on my lunch break.

Chapter One: Cowardice and Protection

"Harry, you're being absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione's voice was a shrill pinch on Harry's nerves. "You cannot drop out of school."

Ron was watching from his bed on the other side of the room, looking sullen. Harry, who had long decided against shouting at Hermione, was seated at a desk with his back to them both, scribbling away at a letter that was approaching two rolls of parchment. He had been working it for at least two weeks, hiding it away in different places every night and adding to it when everyone else was out of the house. This had been the only time Ron had ever caught him writing.

"I'm not discussing this with you anymore, Hermione," Harry replied. "My mind is made up. You don't want to go with me, then you don't have to."

Hermione spluttered angrily, but her eyes were sad. "Of course I can't go with you. You can't go either. This final year is about our futures. Our scores on our NEWTs will determine our careers."

Harry paused in his writing. "And if I don't find the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort, our futures will matter even less. Good test scores won't keep you alive."

"We can all go after this year is over!"

"And how many people will be dead before this year is over?" Harry asked, finally turning around. "How many more wizards, witches, and Muggles are going to have to die before I decide to take action? It has to be me, Hermione, and I'm not going to let anyone else die for me."

"If this is about Sirius –"

Harry stood from his desk, dropping the quill on it, careful to avoid the parchment. "This is about Sirius, and Dumbledore, and Cedric. All those people died because of me. What Voldemort wants is me. And he can have me, once I take down all the Horcruxes. And if I can, I'm going to take him with me."

"Harry, he will kill you," Hermione pleaded.

"Then come with me," Harry said. "Help me."

"I can't do that, Harry. I will not support your cavalier attempt at suicide. Come back to school with us, please!"

"With you," said the voice from the bed. Harry and Hermione turned to Ron, who was in the same position as before.

"What?" Hermione asked, ice slipping into her tone.

"I'm not going back either," Ron said firmly. "If Harry's not going back, neither am I."

"Thank you, Ron," Harry replied, a small smile on his face.

"Thank you, Ron?" Hermione's voice was becoming shrill again, "Thank you, Ron?!" Her face flushed dark red. "You are not going, Ronald. You are going back to school," Her voice as approaching Mrs. Weasley's disapproving wail.

"No, I'm not."

Hermione looked like she was about to explode. "I swear to Merlin, Ronald, you will either change your mind, or I will go tell your mother right now. And you!" She turned to Harry. "What would Ginny say if she knew?"

"Ginny would want to go with him," Ron answered for Harry, who looked pale. "She's not a coward."

Hermione let out a groan of exasperation. "I'm not a coward, Ronald, I'm being practical! I don't want you to die."

"This is a war, Hermione, people die," Ron answered, his voice quiet.

"But not the Boy Who Lived! But you are not Harry, Ron. You aren't the Boy Who Lived!" Hermione was pleading with him now, her hands on his face.

Ron scowled and pushed her away. "I know I'm not the famous Harry Potter, Hermione. How could I ever forget, with people like you shoving it in my face all the time?" Hermione stepped away from him. Ron looked furious. "I understand that Harry's famous, and you're the brightest witch of our age, but I won't let my friend fight a war all on his own. I don't need you throwing your brains and Harry's fame in my face –,"

Hermione looked stricken. "I'm not throwing it in your face, Ron, I'm just –,"

"We'll talk about this in the morning," Harry said, pulling Hermione away from Ron. "I think we all need to sleep on this."

Hermione wrenched her arm away from him and shoved her way into the hall. Harry followed her. "If he dies, I will never forgive you," she whispered fiercely at Harry.

Harry took a step back. "Hermione, that's –,"

"Get away from me, Harry," she pushed past him to her own room and slammed the door.

Hours later, when the whole house was asleep, Harry could still hear the transfigured birds Hermione always created when she was upset chirping in her room. He shook his head, feeling guiltier than he ever had before, and crept past her room, Ron close behind him. He had hoped Hermione would decide to go with them to hunt the Horcruxes; she was the smartest of them all and would prove useful. On some level, she was right; it would be safer to get more training at Hogwarts during their seventh year. But the idea of returning to the once safe castle while everyone else fought in a war over him made Harry nauseated.

He would not let anyone else die for him.

The next morning, Hermione was woken by Mrs. Weasley's shriek. She didn't have to get out of bed to know that Harry and Ron were gone. She pushed her anger and grief back and left her room, following the sounds of Ginny and Molly Weasley. They were standing in Harry and Ron's room, empty of trunks and clothes. Mrs. Weasley was sitting on Ron's bed. Ginny threw her arms around Hermione the second she saw her, tears making her freckled face look positively red and splotchy. Mrs. Weasley's eyes and mouth tightened.

"Did you know about this?" Mrs. Weasley asked, a note in her hand. A fist clenched around Hermione's stomach.

"I tried to stop them, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said quickly. "I begged them not to go. I had no idea they were going to sneak out." In retrospect, she thought, she should have known. Harry and Ron never willingly backed away from a fight.

"You've been their friends for seven years and you didn't know they were going to sneak out?!" Mrs. Weasley screeched angrily. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes. "I didn't – I didn't know…"

"You're the smartest witch of your age, Hermione Granger, how could you not know?!"

Hermione didn't even bother answering, anything she said would be wrong. She released a breath through her nose and let Mrs. Weasley yell, rage, and cry. When the decibel level had finally decreased, she looked up at her surrogate mother that she loved so much. "I think it's time for me to go," Hermione said.

"What?"

But Hermione was already walking away, back to her room. She waved her wand and her belongings flew carefully into her trunk, her clothes folding and her books organizing themselves. She places a Disillusionment charm on the trunk and grabbed her cloak. In the hallway, she slammed into Ginny Weasley.

"You can't go," she said tearfully. "Mom's just upset, that's all, she'll be okay."

"Every time she looks at me, she's going to remember that I let them go. She's going to remember that it's my fault that her sons might never come home," Hermione shook her head. "I have to go."

"Hermione?" Ginny asked as Hermione turned to walk away. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Hermione gave Ginny a small shrug. "I guess I'm a coward."

As Hermione was walking to the front door, Lupin passed her an envelope. She opened her mouth to ask, but he shook his head and put a finger to his lips. He kissed her forehead, squeezed her shoulder lightly, and nodded toward the door. His hair was still graying, but he gave her the most encouraging smile she had seen in a long time. His eyes told her that he knew she wasn't a coward. He knew what she was dealing with; after all, he had been friends with James and Sirius, and they had one day left and never come back. She blinked away her tears and walked out into the dim light of morning.

"Welcome back again, Mr. Malfoy," the desk clerk didn't even look up from his paperwork. Draco Malfoy didn't respond. His robes whispered soft incantations over the marble floor of the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have time to listen to them. He turned left, right, and right again to the lift, which took him immediately to his floor.

"You're late."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well, I really didn't want to come, so…"

The voice growled in impatience. "Did you or did you not understand our arrangement?"

"I understand eight languages, one of them English, so yes, I understand the arrangement. The problem with the arrangement is that you are completely overestimating my supposed love I apparently have for my father. So, if I don't want to show up, I'm not."

"The arrangement that was procured for you was that you show up and your father does not get transferred to Azkaban," Snape said icily. "If you could think beyond yourself, you would know that your father being moved to Azkaban could result in your own isolation from the Wizarding community, along with your mother. Also, you seem to have forgotten that because he has not appeared, most of the other captured Death Eaters have since decided that Lucius must be a traitor. If he makes it to Azkaban, he will die there."

"He can die wherever he likes, I'm not particular as to the location. As for being isolated, that's what opulent wealth is for. I can buy friends. So, I reiterate. I show up when I want."

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Someone is going to have to teach you obedience."

"Don't bother, my father tried for seventeen years, and I'm not sure it ever really sunk in," Malfoy shrugged. "I told you I would help your stupid Order. I told you I would put my very precious life in danger to help people stay alive. I did not agree to a time table."

A table appeared the middle of the dark room and Snape on a chair beside it. Another chair clunked to the ground. "Sit," Snape commanded.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I don't feel like it."

Snape pursed his lips and flicked his wand. Malfoy's legs wobbled and unsteadily carried him to the chair. He fell into it roughly.

"You have naively agreed to be the next me," Snape said quietly. "Now, shut up and listen, Draco. You have much to learn."

"Like how to hide in Dumbledore's pocket for years on end while I pretend to be close to the Dark Lord?" Malfoy sneered. "Doesn't sound that hard."

Snape smirked. "You think so, do you?" Another flick of his wand and a bowl appeared in the middle of the table, full of shimmering silver liquid. "Then go down the rabbit hole, Mr. Malfoy, let's see how much you care to watch."

"We should have brought Hermione," Ron said for the umpteenth time. Harry sighed and shook his head while Ron prattled on. "She was just trying to keep us safe and she's the smarted witch we know, Harry. She could have really helped us."

"Then go get her," Harry said shortly.

Ron shook his head. "She'd never go with us now. Not after we left her." He paused. "We never should have left her, Harry."

"Is that because she can save our skin or because you're in love with her?" Harry asked quickly. Ron choked on his next sentence and coughed roughly.

"I'm not in love with her, Harry, Merlin. I'm just saying. She's been our friend for years."

"And you've been in love with her for years," Harry insisted. "I'm not going to make fun of you, Ron," he added when Ron's face turned a splotchy red. "It's just…obvious."

Ron paused for a long time. "How obvious?" He asked quietly.

Harry smiled. "Incredibly obvious."

They were walking in a forest outside of Albania, looking for the Horcrux Dumbledore had written about in his journal. Harry had no idea where to start, and Ron wasn't sure how to do a spell to locate any magical activity, so they had been wandering through the cold and dry wilderness for close to three hours.

"We should have gone somewhere warmer," Ron complained.

"Sure, change the subject, that'll work," Harry smirked.

Ron ignored him. "We should camp here for tonight," he said confidently.

Harry chuckled. "Fine. Let's put up some protective spells."

Ron narrowed his eyes and stared at Harry. Harry stared at Ron.

"Well," Harry said. "Get to it."

"You get to it."

"You don't know any, do you?

Ron quirked his lips. "I have an idea," he said, rummaging through is moleskin bag. The loud rattling shook birds out of the trees.

"Well, could you have ideas a bit quieter?" Harry asked. "I don't want to be found."

Ron ignored him and yanked a heavy book out of his bag, full of little pages of paper sticking out of the sides with familiar writing on it.

"Is that Hermione's Standard Book of Spells, Year 7?" Harry asked incredulously. "You stole her book?"

Ron shrugged. "She's had it for like three years. I figured she wouldn't miss it. Besides, I think we need it more than she does, don't you?"

A loud crack from their left made Harry and Ron jump. "Yeah let's talk about this later," Harry said. "Just find some protective spells, okay?"

A/N: I want some comedic and dramatic moments in each chapter, but it will become much more dramatic as the fic continues.


	2. When It Rains

A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I really appreciate the follows and such! It feels good to know people are still reading what I post since I abandoned FF for so long.

Disclaimer: NOT MINE.

Chapter Two: When It Rains

Unfurling before Malfoy was the Slytherin common room; a fifteen year old Severus Snape lounged uncomfortably in one of the stiff armchairs by the uninviting fire. His hooked nose was so close to the parchment of his essay that Malfoy was sure grease marks were going to be left behind. Around him, Slytherins bustled in and out of the common room, wearing dress robes and gowns. A young woman, similar in build with Pansy Parkinson (probably her mother) was charming her hair to fade into different colors. Right now it was a cotton candy pink.

"Sev, aren't you going to be late?" A troll-like girl plopped down on the chair beside Snape. "I thought you were going to meet Evans."

"If you listened to any of the gossip around here, you would know that Lily is going to the Halloween Ball with Potter," Snape muttered, never taking his eyes off the essay. "I have no interest in watching that disgusting spectacle."

The girl, Draco noticed, was in a gown that resembled Ron Weasley's attempt at dress robes; the lace and long sleeves made her look almost similar to Hagrid. She tugged insecurely at the sleeves and paused a long time before replying. "Well, I just saw her, and she was alone," she said. Snape paused momentarily in his writing. His dark eyes darted quickly over the page he was scratching away at, unwilling to look up and betray the hopefulness in his eyes. Malfoy almost choked on his disdain. Why was he watching this again?

But the next thing he knew, Snape was vaulting himself up from his chair, his essay forgotten, and stomping to his dormitory. Malfoy, unsure if he should follow, took Snape's forgotten chair and leaned forward to read the essay he had been working so hard on. But it wasn't an essay. Malfoy narrowed his silver eyes and scanned it as quickly as he dared. Taking out his wand, he muttered a quiet spell and retrieved the parchment where he previously could not. He folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. One more quick wave of his wand and a duplicate was sitting in its place.

He followed Snape out of the Slytherin common room and up to the Great Hall, where Lily Evans was sitting outside, her eyes red. Snape made a beeline for her and Malfoy followed, feeling more uncomfortable and irritated by the minute. Her dress was not unlike Granger's at the Yule Ball, a soft, pale blue that brought out the red in her hair and the green in her eyes. Her skin was just barely marred by freckles. Snape placed a tender arm around her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" He asked tentatively.

"What are you doing here, Sev?" She asked instead. Snape removed his arm from her shoulders, but she leaned on him anyway. He smiled faintly in triumph. Malfoy rolled his eyes. In the distance, a familiar voice broke through the chatter, but Lily and Snape were too engaged to hear it.

Malfoy left them to their whisperings, an intimate moment that he should not be privy to, and went to follow the voice. He could not go far, as Snape's memory only encompassed the Great Hall. Right outside the Hall's doors, however, Malfoy found the source of the voice. A man he could only deduce to be Harry's father was cracking jokes with a handsome man that bore only a slight resemblance to the Sirius Black posters that had been plastered all over Diagon Alley only a few years before.

"I swear, if she thinks I'm going to be nice to that slimy git, she's got another thing coming," he was saying, taking a swig from a flask. He passed it off to Sirius, who only took a small sip.

"Please, you can do better than Lily Evans," Sirius said. "She's cute and all, but isn't she kind of a prude for your tastes?"

Potter rolled his eyes, and Malfoy recognized the gesture; it was one he did often. "Lily takes work, and that's slightly more satisfying than just saying hello and taking my pants off."

"Yeah, but then, and I cannot stress this enough, but you won't ever get to take your pants off," Sirius said, quoting his friend.

"Hey, just because I take her to a ball doesn't mean she's my girlfriend," Potter snapped, taking the flask back. "Besides, taking her meant I could rub it in Snivelly's face, and that's enough."

"So why are you out here while she's in there?" Sirius asked.

"Because she wants me to be friends with Snape," Potter practically spat the word. "She wants me to stop picking on her precious Sev because 'he really isn't bad once you get to know him,'" he whined, putting air quotes around Lily's statement. Malfoy almost laughed. James Potter reminded him so much of himself that the parallel to James's own son could only be Snivelling Severus Snape, comforting little Lily Evans.

He wondered what Harry would do if he knew how much of a Malfoy his father really was. Chuckling to himself, Malfoy trotted back into the Great Hall, where he stopped dead in his tracks.

Snape and Lily were kissing.

Severus Snape, Death Eater, all around black hearted and pessimistic, greasy haired bastard was kissing Harry Potter's beautiful, red-headed, Mudblood mother, who would become the female face of the Order of the Phoenix. Malfoy scrunched up his nose so hard he could see his own skin out of the corner of his eyes.

"Gross," he said. He watched Lily pull back and say something, her eyes cast downward. Snape looked disbelieving, then betrayed, then angry. Before long, he strode off in a huff, leaving Lily alone to cry.

Before Malfoy's eyes the scene shifted, tendrils of smoke removing Hogwarts from the setting and replacing it with a house that had recently been demolished. So recently, in fact, that once the Pensieve's smoke tendrils cleared away, the rubble was still smoking. Malfoy looked around expectantly for Snape.

He came barreling in from thin air, a loud crack announcing his arrival. He pushed past all the rocks and broken home to what looked like the remains of a nursery. A woman's body was lying face down, but Malfoy knew her red hair anywhere. They were standing in the wrecked home of the Potters.

Snape turned Lily's body over and hugged her to his chest, sobbing into the night. Malfoy turned away. The previous amusement he felt over seeing James act like a Malfoy dissipated as he listened to his teacher cry like his entire world was ending. They stayed that way for a long time, Snape's sobs scoring the unfortunate scene. After almost an hour of this, Snape's cries slowed into smaller hiccupping sounds. Malfoy turned back.

He had laid her back down, her hair splayed out underneath her, a singed pillow under her head. He pulled out his wand and waved it in a complex pattern over her head, and a single lily manifested in her hand. Snape pressed it into her hands, squeezing as he did so. He kissed her forehead one final time and whispered something into her ear. Malfoy wished he had not heard. But everything was so quiet that his statement hung in the air like a prophecy:

I will avenge you.

Hermione spent her last few weeks of summer vacation in Diagon Alley, reading the textbooks she would be expected to know for her final year of Hogwarts. By now, she was halfway through her new Arithmancy book, which was becoming so complicated that after an hour or so of reading, her eyes started crossing, when she heard the door to the Leaky Cauldron open and a voice she never wanted to hear again was calling for a firewhiskey.

"Oh, they let your kind in here now?" Draco Malfoy asked as he took a barstool two seats away from Hermione. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"You know, you should at least acknowledge my existence. I mean, I know you're not on good terms with part of your little group, but shouldn't you at least welcome new members?"

Hermione turned to him sharply, hitting her knee hard on the bar in the process. "Excuse me, ferret?"

Malfoy smirked and sipped at his firewhiskey. "I think you heard me, and it really is classified information, so I will not deign to repeat it."

Hermione slowly closed her book, her eyes widening. "There's no way that you…that you…"

"That I'm one of you now? I know, the bad boy look just looks so good on me, don't you think?" He shook his hair back, but most of the white blonde hair just settled in front of his eyes again. Hermione fake gagged and turned back to her book, hoping she could find the page. Then she paused.

"How did you know about…?"

Malfoy looked annoyingly superior. "How did I know that you and the Weasel family weren't getting along? Because it's my job to know, Granger. Honestly, can anyone join, or do they make you take a test first, because if not, it should really be introduced. I thought you were smarter than that."

Hermione growled deep in her throat. Malfoy looked affronted. "That wasn't very ladylike, Granger."

"Shut it, git. What are you even doing here?" She spat, quickly ordering her own firewhiskey. Malfoy was going to drive her to drink.

The superior look was on his face again. "Because part of my assignment is to check in on you every now and then to make sure you're safe." At Hermione's offended look, he hastened to add, "This wasn't my choice. I would rather be doing anything else. Like scraping hippogriff feces off a stable floor, for instance. Or getting mauled by a centaur. Or doing a thousand pushups. Or dying."

"I get it!" Hermione burst out. "You don't want to be here, and I'm obviously safe, so you can go now."

"Can't a guy finish his drink in peace?" Malfoy tossed back the rest of his firewhiskey. "Well, it's been a chore, Mudblood. See you tomorrow," he said as he pushed the door to the bar open.

"Tomorrow?" Hermione called after him in disbelief. But the door slammed closed without a response and she groaned, burying her face in her arms. She opened her book to a random page and scanned it, not retaining any information. After only a few minutes, she slammed the book closed in annoyance and stomped back up to her room.

At her desk was the letter Lupin had left her.

"Hermione,

I know that Harry and Ron leaving has hurt you more than I will ever understand. However, I encourage you to keep your head up and remember that you are the moral compass of the group. What you believe to be true is true, and what you believe to be right is indeed the best course of action. Harry and Ron will come to this conclusion. For now, the best thing you can do is keep yourself safe and go back to Hogwarts. As soon as the Order tracks down Harry and Ron, we will send them after you. Please remember that, even though Molly may be mad right now, you are still her daughter, and mine as well. Please take the enclosed. I managed to transfer your parents' leftover money into your own Gringotts account. That should hold you for a few years, as long as you're frugal. Write to me when you need, but keep the letter vague. I will tell you what I can when I can.

With all my love,  
Moony."

Every time she read it, Hermione could feel tears working their way down her cheeks and to her chin. She had read it so many times in the past few days that the folds of the letter were already becoming deep creases. She had received no letter from Lupin yet, but she had started working on a letter to send to Harry and Ron.

Knowing that it would never find them was the only problem.

"Harry and Ron,

Because of your departure, I have had to move from headquarters to a new place before the school year starts. Molly is furious with you, but not so much as I. After everything we've been through, the two of you could just leave me behind? I always knew that you were closer with each other than with me, but I never suspected that the favoritism would go this deep. I'm not sure if I will be able to forgive this, but I do hope you are safe. Please remember the warding spells, which are on page 596 of the Standard Book of Spells, Level 7, which I know Ron took from my room before you left.

Hermione."

She closed her ink well and sighed, her eyes running over the letter again and again. She stuffed it into the pocket of her truck and left it there. She took out a new leaf of parchment and started a new letter, this time only to Ron.

"Ron,

The possibility that you will lose your life being a hero is heartbreaking. I know that you feel a responsibility to Harry, and to the Wizarding world at large, but I hope that one day you can feel a responsibility to me as well. I know that you never spoke of it to me, but I always knew that one day you would ask me to be your girlfriend. That idea seems like such a dream now. I have wanted to be with you for years, but I knew you needed to come to that conclusion on your own. No matter where you are, remember that I love you, and that you need to come home to me. Your mother and your sister miss you, as well as the rest of the Order. I know this letter will never reach you, but I keep hoping to find a spell I can use to send it to you without it being intercepted. Until that happens, I will continue to write you letters you will never read."

Before the end of her letter, Hermione felt tears filling her eyes and let them fall on the paper, smearing her words until they were almost unrecognizable. She shoved the letter into the same pocket as her previous letter and threw herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

Before long, she was in a restless sleep, tossing and turning so much that her blankets were all tangled around her legs by the time she woke up hours later. The view outside her window was an almost empty street filled with long shadows created by dusk. Sighing, she trudged outside and down the street to Flourish and Blotts, where she pushed the door open lightly. The small tinkle of the bell echoed through the empty bookshop.

The wizened bookkeeper always stayed in the back of the store after five. Hermione nodded at him gently and smiled.

"Miss Granger," he called out softly as she eased her way into the sanctity of books. "Miss Granger, I have a question for you."

"Mr. Altec, how can I help you?" Hermione asked graciously.

"Well, since the school rush is about to start, I was hoping you could assist me here at the store," Mr. Altec motioned to the store, full of the smell of old books and tranquility. "I need someone who understands the value of these books, and you are one of the few I've encountered."

Hermione was taken aback. "You want to give me a job?"

Mr. Altec smiled. "Only until you return to school, but yes," his eyes were kind. "Unless, of course, you're busy…"

Hermione shook her head. "No sir, I'm not busy. I would be happy to help." She graciously agreed to come in to work the next morning. She trudged back to the Leaky Cauldron and before long, was fast asleep. She dreamed of her third year, when she had punched Malfoy in the face, flanked by her two best friends. Even if she dared punch the large, broad blonde now, she wouldn't have her friends beside her.

The next early morning, the sun streaked the clouds pink and orange. Hermione came downstairs for a cup of coffee, feeling like maybe life was going to be okay. By the time nine o'clock rolled around, she was practically skipping to Flourish and Blotts, excited for her first day of work.

"Oui, madame, nous n'avons pas ce livre en stock pour le moment mais je peux le commander pour vous," a low voice was saying. Hermione's eyebrows shot up. It wasn't often that she came across a French person, and she had to admit, hearing the language out of a male's mouth (as opposed to Fleur) was enough to make her blush.

A woman responded, an admiring coo to her voice. Hermione followed the voice down the stacks until she came to the source. The man was leaning forward, helping a small woman find another book. From her vantage point, all she could see was his hunched back. Even from there, she could tell that he was tall.

Vaguely, Hermione wondered if Ron could speak even a lick of French. The thought vanished from her mind as the guy straightened. His hair was shaggy and chocolate brown, his eyes crystal blue. What could not be hidden was his smirk.

"Oh, you must be Hermione," he said, a French accent making her narrow her eyes. He extended his hand and she tentatively shook it. "My name is Jacques Derrida," he said, kissing her hand.

Hermione wrenched her hand away. The old French woman had moved down the aisle. She shoved Malfoy down to the other end. "What are you doing?" She hissed. Malfoy smirked.

"My job, mademoiselle," he replied. His Transfigured eyes held subtext. Hermione scrunched up her nose.

"How long?" She growled. Malfoy moved away from her, back to the storeroom. Hermione stalked after him.

Malfoy was smirking at her discomfort. "I told you I would see you tomorrow."

"I didn't think you would stalk me at work!"

Malfoy snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, beaver. I'm completing my mission. Once you're safely on the train, I'm done being your shadow."

Hermione huffed, her good mood forgotten. "I don't need—,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Malfoy raised his hand to stop her. "I don't care. I'm just doing what I'm told."

"Since when?" Hermione challenged.

Malfoy's face went slack. Hermione took a step back, alarmed. "Since I don't have a choice. So get over yourself and try not to blow my cover," Malfoy pushed past her and back to the store. Hermione let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. She was never going to be free of him, she thought in despair. All she wanted was a job away from the Leaky Cauldron, away from memories of her friends, away from the Order, and far away from Malfoy.

"Well," Snape said, attempting at his usual silky tone. Malfoy, on the other hand, could hear the tension in his voice.

"Why did you show me that?" Malfoy asked. "Why make me watch something I already knew about?"

Snape smirked. "You need to know what's at stake."

"Losing a redhead?" Malfoy couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. "I don't think I need to worry about that."

Snape's lip curled; other than that, nothing on his face portrayed his emotions. "And how would you feel if you found your mother's body just like that?" He asked. "If you aren't convincing, that could happen."

Suddenly, Malfoy was standing, his blood rushing in his ears. "Enough," he growled, low in his chest.

Snape held his wand lazily. "Tut, tut, Malfoy," he said as Malfoy froze. "Control yourself."

The only part of Malfoy's face that could move was his jaw. He clenched it so hard he thought his teeth would break. When Snape finally released him, Malfoy fell to the floor, his legs almost buckling with the surprise of his full weight. Snape chuckled flatly.

"Would you like for something like that to happen to your mother?" Snape asked again. This time, Malfoy stayed calm.

"No" he answered. Snape sneered again.

"It seems we've cracked the black heart of the impenetrable Draco Malfoy," he said snidely. "Here I thought you were made of stone."

Malfoy felt anger rising up in his chest, and saw Snape waiting for his outburst. He inhaled deeply and gave none. Snape waited longer, an almost expectant smile on his face. Malfoy, after a few seconds, raised his eyebrows.

"I'm glad to see you can control yourself," Snape finally said, almost giddy now. "Because you're going to need it."

Malfoy felt what little control he had left slipping. Snape waited, again, for Malfoy to break. When he did not, Snape continued. "You have your first mission."

Still, Malfoy did not reply.

"You are to keep Hermione Granger safe until the school year begins," Snape said, poised for a reaction. Malfoy's brain erupted in thousands of directions, but he immediately quelled it.

"What happened to Potty and the Weasel?" He asked stiffly.

"They left her behind and left on their own quest to save the world," Snape replied, smirking.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "They won't last a day without that Mudblood," he said haughtily. Snape made a noise that sounded like an agreement.

"Why does Granger need protection?" Malfoy asked. "She's the brains of the goody two-shoes parade anyway."

"Because you're being told to watch out for her. So do it, and don't tell her why," Snape emphasized "don't" so harshly Malfoy felt spittle land on his face. "Your role in the Order is an absolute secret, do you understand?"

Malfoy's old swagger was coming back. "But how will I make friends?" He fake-whined.

Snape did not find him amusing. "You won't."

"Come on, Harry," Ron grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It's not here. We need to try somewhere else."

Harry, eyes closed, ignored him. Ron turned to him, watching his best friend carefully. Since they had left Grimmauld Place, Harry's mood had greatly improved; he was less short with Ron and had even managed a good night's sleep. Right now, he was trying to focus on Voldemort, hoping he could determine the location of the other Horcruxes.

After watching him meditate for almost an hour, Ron cleared his throat loudly. "Maybe we should focus on finding something that kills Horcruxes," he reasoned. "I mean, we already have one," he pointed to his chest, where the locket hung. His stomach growled. "Or maybe we should catch dinner."

Harry did not respond. Ron regarded him ruefully for a few moments, irritated. Finally, muttering curses under his breath, he stood and pushed his way out of the tent.

Albania was bitterly cold. Ron clutched his homemade sweater closer to him and looked around, his eyes narrowed. He didn't know how to hunt; he knew he couldn't Transfigure food. He longed, as he often did, for Hermione.

About 100 yards from the tent, Ron found a sharp rock that looked like it could kill something. He picked it up, already feeling nauseated. What lived in Albania, anyway? Stalking as quietly as possible, he kept his eyes on the ground, looking for any movement. Unfortunately, Ron could hear every single one of his footsteps echo loudly through the forest. If he could hear it, so could every other piece of wildlife that might inhabit the woods. Not only would it scare away food he could kill, but it would attract food that could kill him.

Ron nervously started counting his steps, hoping he could keep track so he could find the tent when he returned. After sixty, though, he lost count. Cursing, Ron spun in an indignant circle. Just as he opened his mouth to spew more colorful language, a sound caught his attention. A quiet sound, almost like the distant sound of applause on a Quidditch pitch. Water. Where there was water, there must be fish!

He rushed toward the sound, careless of his loud, blundering footsteps and where he was coming from. Breathing heavily, he slowed to listen. When his feet started squishing in slush rather than just snow, Ron knew he was close. A small, almost frozen river opened up before him. Ron could see a few small fish, pitifully small, and some frogs that were either dead or in the throes of hypothermic death. Ron groaned, grasping the rock harder. He rummaged through the snow, hoping for a stick. It took him almost an hour to find one, and dusk was settling in over him. Not bothering to sharpen it, Ron thrust it through the thin layer of ice and into the river, not even caring to aim. Ron shoved the stick in the water over and over again, punctuating each attempt with a curse, getting progressively more frustrated.

Finally, his stick smacked a fish rather than stabbing it, and it floated away, dead. Ron, excited again, started chasing it down from the riverbank, waving his stick in the water, hoping to coax it to him. When it didn't work, he threw his hand into the ice water, ignoring the sting of cold, and clutched his fist around the fish. It wasn't much bigger than his hand, but it was plump. He held it up and whooped in triumph.

Two hours later, Ron trudged back to the tent, utterly exhausted, five small fish clutched in his arms. The fire Harry and Ron had made last night had gone out, but Ron, angry as he was, just pointed his wand at it and the flames leapt to almost Ron's shoulder height. As the fire warmed his face, Ron pulled out the shrunken text of "The Standard Book of Spells, Level 7," and charmed it back to its original size. He quickly flipped to the section on food and hunting.

He pointed his wand at the fish carcasses. "_Cutis Tollerus_," he murmured, and the scales were sloughed off. Ron tossed the new, scale-free fish into the small frying pan and let it start to sizzle over the fire. Harry still had not appeared. Ron felt his anger rise dangerously, but struggled to push it down. Harry was going through enough; Ron was just along for the ride. Though, he thought, he didn't remember the ride being this rough. As the fish cooked, he thought back to Grimmauld Place, to his family and Hermione. She had looked so peaceful sleeping there the last night he saw her, he couldn't help but place the smallest of kisses on the top of her head. He squeezed her hand just once before he left.

He should have told her how he felt before they left her behind. She would never forgive him now. Ron clenched his fists against the idea of losing her.

A smell caught his attention.

"Shit!" He yelped, taking the fish off the fire. They were slightly burned, they smelled wet, and they still had all their organs and bones, but he could deal with that easily. It was food, and he couldn't afford to be picky. He poked it cautiously.

It was marginally less disgusting than he had originally anticipated, and counted only that as a success. By the time Harry emerged from the tent, it was completely dark and Ron had been staring at the snow, deep in thought, for a long time.

"Ron?"

Ron didn't even look at Harry. "I caught some fish."

Harry glanced down at the little pan. Two fish were resting in it, blackened but cooked. "I know where the next Horcrux is," he said in answer.

"I don't even care," Ron said, still not looking at him. "I spent almost five hours just trying to find the smallest thing for dinner, while you wandered around in the depths of your brain. I get it, you're the Chosen One, so you shouldn't have to do anything, but I'm not your mother, and I'm not going to be your maid either!"

Harry looked taken aback at Ron's outburst. To Ron's credit, his volume didn't rise as much as it normally would, but he looked so livid that Harry wasn't about to question him. "Is this about Hermione?" He asked tentatively.

Ron looked offended. "I get that everything with you is girls or Voldemort, but for once, I was thinking about everyone," he tugged at the locket around his neck. "What good is this stupid thing if we can't destroy it?"

"Ron, I think it's time you took that off," Harry said, reaching for it. Ron pulled away and tucked it back into his shirt.

"What's the point of all this shit if we have no idea how to destroy these things? We are getting nowhere!" With his arms thrust out, in the middle of nowhere, it seemed like Ron had all the evidence he needed. "I should have stayed at Hogwarts."

Harry looked pensive. "Maybe you should have."

Ron, still breathing heavily, didn't respond.

"If we get the next Horcrux, we'll go to Hogwarts. We'll raid the Chamber of Secrets for basilisk fangs, that's how I got rid of the diary," Harry reasoned soothingly. "You can visit Hermione, and if you decide you want to stay, then I won't stop you."

Ron made a choking sound in the darkness. "She'll never forgive me."

Harry didn't respond.

A/N: I will be trying to update this fic once a week, but once my grad school work load gets heavier, that may not be the case. Sorry! But I'll try my best.


	3. A Battle of the Mind

A/N: I know I said I was going to post every single week, but it turns out that I have so damn much work to do, and graduate school is a load of shit. A totally fascinating, rewarding load of shit, but it distracts me from this. So…

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Chapter Three: A Battle of the Mind

Malfoy found sleep elusive that night. His encounter with Granger at the Leaky Cauldron, along with his admission, was eating away at him. He hadn't meant to tell her; the way she was glaring at him forced him to reveal that he was, technically, more useful in this war than she was. The second the words left his mouth he regretted them. For all he knew, Granger, Queen of the Geeks, was telling the whole Order his identity. H was supposed to be revealed once his training was done. If Granger outed him first . . .

He didn't even want to think about Snape's reaction. Malfoy rolled onto his side, frowning deeply. He was going to have to find a way around this vulnerability. He could threaten her . . . but that would only infuriate the Mudblood more. If she had ever left the library, he could blackmail her . . . if only Granger wasn't so incredibly boring. Frustrated, Malfoy rolled gracefully out of bed and poured himself a generous glass of firewhiskey.

Granger had a weakness he could exploit, he just had to pay attention and find it. This was the kind of thing he was trained for, after all. Now what did the Mudblood love?

Books, homework, the library, the Weasel . . . all useless.

Then it dawned on him so quickly he had to wonder if someone planted it there. He knew exactly what he needed to do, he only needed to push the right buttons in the bushy-haired Muggleborn. He tossed back the rest of his firewhiskey, swallowing quickly to banish the burn. He settled back into bed, letting the silk of his sheets conform to his muscular frame, and let sleep carry him restlessly to dreamland.

The next morning, Malfoy found Granger reshelving books that Hogwarts students would be snatching from shelves in a matter of hours. Her eyes darted up when the bell at the door tinkled, but she avoided his form quickly and focused again on her task. He gave her a significant look that she did not even see. Every fiber of his being told him to leave her alone. But . . .

"We need to talk," his voice was low, but he made sure to keep a fair distance from her.

She didn't even look up. "Go away, _Jacques_," she sneered at his fake name. "I'm working, and I still have your share to do." The spare glance she gave him was ice cold.

"What can I say, Derrida's don't often work," he drawled, letting his personality shine through.

She rolled her eyes. "Bugger off, _Derrida_," she said, pushing past him with another stack of books. Malfoy felt the strong urge to punch a bookshelf. Merlin, she was infuriating.

"Last chance, Granger," he warned. She shook her head with her back to him. Malfoy groaned, strode up to her, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her into the storeroom.

"Malfoy!" She shrieked. Malfoy, horrified, clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shut your mouth, you stupid Mudblood, before you blow my cover!" Her huge brown eyes glowered at him reproachfully. "Will you listen, or am I going to have to Full Body Bind you?"

Her eyes, visible over his Glamoured, tan hand, narrowed. Malfoy carefully let go of her mouth. She chucked herself into a chair, covered in dust, and batted the particles away, still begrudging.

"I need you to . . . " Malfoy paused. Granger raised her eyebrows, annoyed. He sighed, took a breath, and started again. "You can't tell anyone that I'm part of the Order."

Hermione's face went from annoyed to incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Malfoy huffed. "Yes, Granger. I wouldn't touch you, much less manhandle you, unless I had to."

Hermione scoffed. "If I can't tell them, then why did you tell me?"

"That's irrelevant," he replied. "I'm supposed to be a secret agent, so I need you to keep the secret."

"Please," her voice was annoyingly sarcastic.

Malfoy looked strangely smug. "I thought you'd respond that way. So, I have a proposition for you."

Her eyes were practically slits now. "What do you mean, ferret?"

Malfoy wanted desperately to make a snide comment; it was already on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. If he said even one word wrong, he was screwed. He would be beyond chastised; he would be dead.

"We duel," he said. "I win, you keep the secret."

Her face relaxed, the damn Gryffindor. "And if I win?"

Malfoy pursed his lips. "If you win, Granger, you get to blab."

Granger looked disapproving. "That's it?"

Malfoy's face turned into a sneer. "Does the brightest witch of her age not understand the subtextual implications?"

He could see her brain working furiously. "Do you want me to just tell you?"

She didn't answer. Malfoy growled. "Granger, if you tell, someone will tell Snape, who will out me to Voldemort. It's the rule of our deal. If one of us threatens the other's cover, we out him and let him die. You will have the Mal-ferret out of your bushy hair forever," he practically spat the last sentence at her. She looked horrified at the idea; Malfoy took pleasure in that. "What?" He snarled. "Too prim and proper to indirectly kill?"

Her face hardened, her eyes were cold. "I don't relish the idea of death, even yours."

"So keep the secret."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?" He exploded. Granger quickly Silenced the room. "You want everyone to stay alive? Then keep your bloody mouth shut!"

Hermione clenched her jaw. "You're forgetting that I don't trust you, Malfoy."

"So you'd rather see me dead."

She clutched at her hair in frustration. "That's not what I said!"

Malfoy's mouth was set in a grim line. "It appears we've reached an impasse, Mudblood."

Hermione growled, a predatory look in her eyes that Malfoy hadn't seen since she punched him in third year. Malfoy hastened to cut her off as she raised her wand.

"Just think about it," he urged. Her face, flushed with anger, calmed a little. He took that as an acquiescence. He nodded to her and ducked out of the room.

Flouish and Blotts was quickly becoming a madhouse. Hogwarts students, young and old, were filling the stacks, yanking books off the shelves in complete disarray. Malfoy could practically feel the stress reverberating off of Granger as she pushed past him and took over the register. After a pointed look, Malfoy followed and opened the second one.

Malfoy had underestimated how popular Granger was. Many of the younger students stared up at her in awe, many of the males were blatantly hitting on her. Malfoy had to frown hard so he wouldn't laugh; she didn't even notice, she was too busy letting her hair get progressively bushier. She didn't look bad, for a Mudblood. If, of course, you ignored her hair, and her frumpy clothes. And the angry badger look on her face.

"Hermione?" Malfoy felt, rather than saw, Hermione's polite smile turn into a pale mask.

"I can help you over here, mademoiselle," Malfoy blurted before he could stop himself. Ginny ignored him. She rushed up to Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed in determination.

"I've owled you a thousand times!" She exclaimed. "Please, come home. Mom is okay now, I promise."

Hermione scanned the books with her wand and bagged them. "I'm not going back, Gin. I can't put your mother through that."

"She's fine now!" Ginny replied, practically stomping her foot.

Hermione shook her head. "No, she's not," she bagged up the books and passed them to Ginny. "She won't be until they're home."

"That's not your fault."

Hermione shrugged. "I know." She smiled briefly, but it didn't meet her eyes. "See you on the train."

Ginny gave her a final, watery smile. "Only a week away, 'Mione." Hermione watched her leave.

"Let's do it," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"What?"

"We'll do it," she said, clearer, and wouldn't say any more about it.

"We could…dress up like Death Eaters," Ron suggested.

"We don't know which ones will work."

"Polyjuice potion?"

"No ingredients."

Ron furrowed his brow again. "Invisibility Cloak?"

"They have wards for that," Harry dismissed.

While Harry had been meditating, he recovered access to a memory of Voldemort's. Voldemort had handed something to Bellatrix and told her to put it in the safest place she knew. He implanted a memory in her head, of a vault full of gold.

The Horcrux was in Gringotts.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry," Ron said, exasperated. "The safe plans aren't what we do. We all know Her—"

"Yes, Hermione was better at it, but did you forget that she didn't want to go? She wanted to go to school more!" Harry had quickly grown frustrated of Ron's constant pining of Hermione.

Ron fell silent. "We need to understand magic we never thought we'd have to deal with," Harry said, his jaw clenched. "The longer you try to will Hermione back, the less chance we have."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that before you left her behind!" Ron's ears were quickly turning red.

"_I_ didn't leave her behind," Harry shouted. "_We _did! You did this just as much as I did! It's time you deal with that."

Ron's face hardened. "Well maybe I'll meditate on that while _you_ figure out _your_ plan to break into Gringotts," his tone was so harshly sarcastic that Harry looked surprised. "Good luck." Ron stomped back into the tent, leaving Harry outside.

After almost an hour of stewing, Harry awkwardly entered the tent and found Ron sitting in the moth-eaten armchair by the bunks, staring into space. Harry sighed. When Ron continued to ignore him, Harry sighed louder.

"What do you want?"

Harry looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry about Hermione."

"You should be, mate," Ron's voice wasn't mean anymore, but it hurt Harry more this way. "I only left her because I thought it was going to be best for her. And for you."

"I know."

"Do you?" Ron asked sincerely. "Because I don't think this is what's best for us. We're not gonna win this war without her."

Hermione collapsed on her bed as the sun was setting outside her window. Stupid Malfoy and his stupid secrets, she thought, punching her pillow. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? And he had been there when Ginny showed up. The thought made her flush with embarrassment. She wished she could go to school already; at least there she could pretend she wasn't miserable.

She felt her eyes water, but refused to let them fall. She held them there, blurring her vision, and blinked slowly until they went away. She sighed heavily and pulled a piece of parchment to her and started writing.

_Dear Ronald, _

_I know I wrote to you yesterday, but I met someone today. I can't tell you who, but he is so completely infuriating I don't even know what to do with myself. I could just blow up the whole city with my anger. I can't help but be angry at you and Harry as well. If you two hadn't left me, I would never be here. We could be together. Now, I'm not sure what will happen, but –_

A knock interrupted her. Hermione froze. "Come on, Granger, open the door!"

She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy?" She shoved the letter into her trunk and turned to the door. It was still locked. She smirked at it. The handle jiggled.

"Come on!" He groused. "We have a duel to fight!"

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Now?" She asked.

His voice was cold. "Yes, now! This is kind of important to me, you know."

Of course it was, he wouldn't shut up about it. She collapsed on her bed again, enjoying his discomfort. "Malfoy, I'm tired."

Her doorknob jiggled again. "I don't care, Granger. Let's go!"

Hermione stifled a laugh as Malfoy struggled to open the door to her room. "Give it up, Malfoy, I know way more locking spells than you know what to do with," Hermione called. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands. A silence fell, and Hermione's smile grew. "I thought you would put up a bigger fight than that, Malfoy," she said mockingly.

"I didn't need to," the voice was clear, calm, and smug. Hermione's eyes flew open, and Malfoy smirked as she shrieked.

"How did you get in here?" She screeched.

Malfoy shrugged. "I Apparated."

"Silently?!"

"It's a stealth move, Granger, it's what I'm trained to do," he replied. She glared at him. He knew, feeling incredibly smug as he did, that she wanted him to teach her.

"Let's go, Granger," he said again. "Or are you scared?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Malfoy's smirk grew nauseatingly large. "I think you heard me, Granger."

She groaned. "Why now, Malfoy?"

_Because I can't sleep until I fix this._ "Because I don't trust you."

"Well, thank you, ferret, it seems we have something in common," she snarked. She pushed herself up on her arms. "Fine, let's go."

As she left the room, Malfoy followed closely behind. "No Unforgivables," he said quickly.

She stopped suddenly, and Malfoy froze an inch from her back. "I don't use Unforgivables, ferret."

"I don't either, Mudblood," she spat, feeling self-conscious. "I only use them when I'm . . . told." _Forced, _he amended silently.

Hermione was staring up at him in the dusty dark with something that looked a lot like pity. Malfoy had to wonder if he had said it out loud.

"What?" He snapped. "We all live a hard life, let's all cry about it," he pushed her forward, prompting her to walk, and followed closely behind her.

"I'm sorry," he heard her small voice say reluctantly.

He scoffed. "I don't want your pity."

She snorted. "I'm not giving it to you." Malfoy paused. "I'm just apologizing for assuming you were an Unforgivable kind of guy."

"Oh, I am," Malfoy answered cryptically. "But . . . thanks," he pushed out, difficultly.

Hermione's laugh was short. "Alright, let's not get carried away."

Malfoy silently agreed. "I have a small clearing out of city limits," he said. "We can Apparate from here."

She nodded. "You aren't going to do anything stupid, are you?"

"And harm the brightest witch of the age?" Malfoy asked, mock-hurt. "I would never."

Hermione placed her hand on Malfoy's arm and felt the familiar tug of Apparition. She opened her eyes, and they were standing in a small clearing, surrounded by trees. Malfoy had been true to his word.

"How do you want to do this?" Malfoy asked awkwardly.

"I don't," she replied, dusting off her skirt.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself. Bow, and let's do this."

As Hermione bowed, she shot a silent Leg Locker curse at him. He smirked as it bounced off his silent Shield Charm.

"Rude, Granger," he scolded. "That wasn't very Gryffindor of you."

Soon, flashes of light were flying in every direction, and Hermione quickly found that she was horribly outmatched. Malfoy could fire three curses in the time she fired one, and he was almost impossible to hit. After an hour, Hermione was covered in small cuts and breathing heavily, while Malfoy was calm, untouched, and only slightly flushed.

"Expelliarmus!" She shouted desperately. Malfoy's wand went flying from his hand, landing a few feet away. Malfoy allowed her a moment of victory before he raised his hands and Hermione was wrenched into the ground. Her ankles and knees stuck in the dirt, she stared incredulously at him as he disarmed her.

"You can do wandless magic?" She said in disbelief.

" I was the second in the class, Granger, try not to sound so surprised," he said, handing her the wand back. "But you did better than I expected," he said, holding out his hand to help her up. As she rolled her eyes and took his hand, Malfoy's left hand twitched violently.

"Shit, Granger, let go!" He shouted, trying to pry her hand off. But they were being wrenched along, and Hermione had a very bad feeling.


	4. The Acting Face

A/N: Send me some reviews and tell me what you like and do not like! A lot of you are following, but not a lot of you are reviewing. Also, a few notes…Dumbledore is still head, Snape is still Headmaster, but Harry and Ron have the real locket Horcrux. They had Harry's birthday and Fleur and Bill's wedding, which means Hermione has the _Tales of Beetle the Bard, _Ron has the Deluminator, and Harry has the Snitch. However, the wedding ended happily, not with the attack on the Ministry. I think that's about all that I changed…

Disclaimer: Not it!

Chapter Four: The Acting Face

Malfoy and Hermione landed in a crumpled heap on hard cement, and immediately, Malfoy shot up. His face, normally pale, had a greenish tinge.

"Apparate out, Granger," he hissed desperately. "Quickly!"

Hermione, sensing danger in his voice, turned quickly on the spot, no questions asked. Nothing happened. Malfoy looked devastated.

"This is it," he groaned. "This is where I die."

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion. "Where are we, Malfoy?" He looked like he was going to be sick. Hermione paused for a second before continuing. "We're at the Death Eater headquarters, aren't we?"

"Granger, unless you want to die, you need to hide. Now," Malfoy was ignoring her completely. He couldn't hear anything past the rushing sound of his blood in his ears. "Hide –"

"Well, well, what do we have here?" A familiar, silky voice asked.

"It was an accident," Malfoy hissed. "She grabbed me when the Mark activated."

Snape looked smug, in full Death Eater charcter. "Well, it's too late now," he shrugged. He turned to Hermione, "Miss Granger, would you rather become a Death Eater, or die?"

Hermione raised her chin. "Die."

Malfoy groaned and Snape grabbed her arm. "Wrong answer," he yanked her close. "You can either come up with a believable story as to why you want to be a Death Eater, Granger, or you will die," his eyes glittered. "And we all know you love life too much to die."

Hermione was horrified. Snape wanted her to become a Death Eater? She looked up at Malfoy, who appeared as dumbstruck as she felt. How on earth could she get out of this? If she owned up, Malfoy would die. If she acted like herself, she would die. If she didn't answer soon, they were both going to die. Then it dawned on her.

"Can I be…like Malfoy?"

Snape's head snapped to Malfoy so fast that Malfoy actually took a step back. He looked, if possible, even greener. His eyes slid to Hermione, a rage that she had never felt filled her, and she knew, albeit absently, that it was Malfoy's rage being transferred to her. She swallowed it and contained it. "I hope you're prepared for the consequences, Draco," Snape said quietly, and slithered away.

Hermione didn't have to think to know what that meant. "Where's Voldemort?" She rushed to Malfoy, who looked like he was about to fall over. "Malfoy, where is he?"

"W-what?"

"We have to beat Snape there!"

Malfoy stared at her, uncomprehending. Hermione slapped him. "Do you want to live or not?"

Malfoy grabbed her arm and started running, Hermione struggling to keep up. He turned right, flew down a hallway, took a left, shoved his way through a door, and turned right again. He barreled down a flight of stairs, one hand protecting Hermione as she stumbled. At the foot of the stairs, he screeched to a halt. Voldemort was at the head of an ornate wood table in the middle of a white marble hall. The lights tinted the room a greenish gray, and the floors and walls were so cold that Hermione shivered.

There was an empty seat to the immediate right of Voldemort, reserved for Snape. Hermione smirked in triumph. Filling the table were faced Hermione half recognized: Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Lucius, Narcissa, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Dolohov were all watching her with distaste.

The room fell immediately silent. Malfoy fell to his knee, pulling Hermione down with him.

Voldemort rose. "Draco," he whispered. "Who is your new…servant?" His lips curled and the table erupted in jeering laughter.

Malfoy did not look up. "My lord, I have brought you a new recruit, one Hermione Granger, of the Golden Trio."

The laughter dissipated as suddenly as it began. Whispers snaked throughout the room. Voldemort looked, if possible, surprised. "Rise, girl," he commanded. She obeyed. "Tell me why I should let a Mudblood and best friend of Harry Potter join my ranks?" He smirked. "You could be a spy."

She held her head high. "My lord, I am the brightest witch of the age, despite my Blood Status, and as for my intentions," she lowered her chin enough to look into his red eyes. "I invite you to use Legilmency to prove my honesty."

The silence was so deafening, Malfoy could hear his heartbeat. Then, it was broken. Bellatrix had found her voice.

"Master, let me search her mind," Bellatrix begged, clutching at Voldemort's sleeve. "You know how I love Legilmency," she stared up at Voldemort beseechingly, and Hermione almost vomited on the floor in instant fear. Bellatrix would not search her mind; she would destroy it. Voldemort's eyes never left Hermione's.

"Draco, how did you come across Miss Granger?" He asked, his voice barely audible. Hermione and Draco tensed. If even one detail was off, they were both dead. Malfoy quickly relaxed.

"I found her at the Leaky Cauldron," he explained cautiously. "She was upset about Weasel and Scarhead going on an adventure without her, and annoyed me to no end about how they didn't appreciate her and other hysterical nonsense. I left her there and went about my business. At Flourish and Blotts today, she cornered me and challenged me to a duel. If she won, I would bring her here," Malfoy shrugged. "I was true to my word."

"As a Malfoy always is," Voldemort mused. The Carrows laughed. "But Draco, you let a Mudblood beat you?"

Malfoy had the pureblood decency to look ashamed. "She took me by surprise." As Voldemort continued to stare at him, he could feel his training kicking in. His breathing and heart rate slowed to a calm, steady rhythm. Voldemort looked appeased. He turned to Granger.

"Potter and Weasley left you?" He asked. "To go where?"

Hermione faltered for half a second, and a small, condescending smile fell over her lips. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Perhaps you don't wish for me to talk about your secret weapons in such…company," she said slyly. Voldmort's eyes darkened. "Your…seven…secret weapons?"

For the first time, Voldemort looked astonished. Malfoy turned, surprised, to Granger. "You know, Miss Granger, maybe you should've been in Slytherin," Voldemort chuckled. "However, I do need a better reason than that."

Hermione's composed face disintegrated into fury. "You want to know why I want to be one of you? All I've ever done is help them. I helped them with their homework, with their stupid love lives, and six years of putting my life on the line for Harry fucking Potter! And for what? So the guy that I loved could just decide to blindly follow his best friend instead of me? So I could get left behind like the weakest link, like the dying house elf?!" Her voice was shrill, but so full of anger that even Malfoy didn't doubt her. "They think they're gonna survive this without me? They won't make it past a month, even if I have to kill them myself." She took a deep breath, composed herself, and bowed low to Voldemort again.

"I can be the best spy you've ever had, my lord," she said. "Just give me the opportunity to prove it to you."

Everyone looked shell shocked at her outburst. Voldemort smirked at her, and Draco found himself suppressing a sick surge of pride. He knew her ability to fool Voldemort had nothing to do with him, but he still felt like Granger was finally doing something worthy of her "brightest witch of the age" title.

And someone should be proud of her, right?

"Ron, I think I have an idea," Harry said cautiously. Ron, still upset at him, did not reply. "I thought we could go to Hogwarts."

Ron looked up from his chair. "Really?" His red hair was long and unkempt, his voice cld.

Harry ignored his tone. "I figured we could at least try to find the Sword of Gryffindor. And if we find it, we can keep Horcrux hunting with a usable weapon." You haven't spoken to me in days, I said I was sorry!"

Ron's eyes remained on the book as he replied. "You didn't apologize, Harry, you said it was both our faults, and you expected me to just be okay with that."

Harry couldn't bring himself to amend his opinion. It was both their faults. "I'm sorry this happened, Ron, but we all have to make sacrifices. I left Ginny behind as well, and your family…they're all the family I have. I can't just sit around and let Voldemort threaten their lives," Harry retrieved the book from the bed and handed it back to Ron. "I didn't want any of this to happen, I hope you know that now."

Ron held the book tightly. "I'm going to try to convince Hermione to leave with us, you know that, right?"

Harry felt a ghost of a smile grace his lips. "Of course you are."

Ron's voice became bitter. "She'll probably hate me, right?"

Harry clapped him on the back. "Probably. But she never hates you for long, mate. Only a force greater than the Chosen One," he gave Ron an exaggerated, arrogant face, "could keep you two apart."

Ron looked skeptical, but laughed all the same. "So, Hogwarts?"

Harry laughed. "Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, I won't be going to Hogwarts now?" Hermione's shrill voice was threatening to leave the realm of whispers.

Malfoy motioned for her to lower her voice. "You have to go through the initiation process, Granger," he said. "You should just be glad you're alive." Granger didn't answer. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I never wanted any of this to happen, you know."

Hermione gave him a queer look. "I know."

"But if I had just kept my mouth shut –"

"I would be bloody miserable and would have spent the rest of my summer and seventh year crying over Ronald," she tentatively placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder, and just as quickly removed it. "I know it isn't ideal, but as least I'm doing something in this war now."

"And without the Chosen One," Malfoy agreed.

Hermione nodded absently. "So…what exactly is the initiation process?"

Malfoy's eyes went to the floor. Hermione took a deep breath, counted to ten, and tried again. "Malfoy?"

His silver eyes were pained. "You heard me say I was sorry, right?"

"Malfoy!"

He flinched. "Alright!" He looked away from her. "The Dark Lord will look into your mind, to make sure your intentions are known. He will find your weakness and exploit it."

"That's not so bad."

"I'm not finished." Malfoy still wasn't looking at her. "You will be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. They will make you kill. And, if you manage all that, you will get your Mark."

Hermione looked horrified. "I have to kill someone?"

Malfoy nodded, feeling sympathetic. "But I will be choosing your victim, as I am the newest recruit. I can make sure that your Muggle is a criminal sentenced to die. That way, you'll be helping him instead of hurting him."

Hermione gazed up at him through watery lashes. "Why are you helping me so much?" She asked, sniffling.

Malfoy gave her a pitying look. "Because my mistake got you here, and now, like it or not Granger, we're in this together." His lip curled. "I bet no one ever saw this coming."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure your ancestors are rolling in their graves."

"Believe it or not, Granger, I wasn't referring to your Blood Status."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Then what?"

"I was referring to the commonly known fact that we hate each other."

Hermione's eyebrows didn't move. "Right. That."

Malfoy crossed to the door of what would be Hermione's room for the week. "See you tomorrow, Granger," he said quietly as the door closed.

Finally alone, Hermione collapsed on the huge bed in the middle of the room. Without her trunk she couldn't write to Ron, she couldn't read. She stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought, until she drifted off into a restless sleep.

King's Cross Station was bustling, full of poorly disguised wizards mingling with confused Muggles. Ginny Weasley, used to the chaos by now, pushed her way to the platform, followed closely by her mother.

"Do apologize to Hermione again for me, will you?" Molly fussed, tucking her wand securely into her jacket.

"Yes, Mother."

"And do try to convince her to come home for Christmas, please," Molly continued, ignoring Ginny. "I would hate to have her alone during the holidays."

"Of course, Mother."

"You will try, won't you?"

"Mum, Hermione will not be coming for Christmas, okay? She's not angry, she's heartbroken. She's devastated that Ron and Harry abandoned her. Don't you see that? She doesn't want to see you or anyone else until they come home, because she feels guilty. She feels like she failed. So yes, I will try, but do not get upset at me when she doesn't come home!" Ginny felt her face get flushed and her eyes fill with tears.

Molly had tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'll see you during Christmas, dear," she said softly. "Be safe."

Ginny felt even guiltier knowing her mother wasn't going to fight with her. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said as she hugged her tightly.

"I know, sweetheart," Molly pulled away and wiped a tear off Ginny's face. "Now, be safe, I'll see you soon."

"I love you, Mum," Ginny said, sniffling.

"I love you too."

The Hogwarts Express was almost half empty. Many parents were choosing to leave their children at home with their families, especially with the death of Albus Dumbledore. Ginny stuffed her trunk into a compartment at the back of the train and went to the front to find Hermione. As Head Girl, she would be at the front compartment with the teachers and the other prefects and Head Boy.

As she peeked into the compartment, the door slid open and Professor McGonagall stepped out.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," she said, her voice more tired than Ginny had ever heard it.

"Professor," Ginny replied. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "She has not gone into the prefects compartment yet. Neither has Head Boy, come to think of it."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "Who is Head Boy?"

"Draco Malfoy," McGonagall answered with a hint of disdain. "Professor Snape insisted on it, but I have yet to see either of them."

Ginny bit her lip. "I'll go look for Hermione," she said, already turning around. "Oh, and Professor?"

"Miss Weasley?"

"Harry and Ron won't be coming," Ginny said quietly.

Professor McGonagall's eyes looked even sadder. "I know, Miss Weasley. But at least we have Miss Granger."

Ginny gave her a firm nod and continued on her search with renewed vigor. As she peeked into more compartments, she noticed that more Slytherins seemed to be in attendance than any other House. Gryffindors were still there, but many of the younger students had elected not to return. Ginny felt sadness settle in her stomach as she searched, becoming less and less encouraged as she went through more of the train.

By the time she reached the end of the train, she was more confused than ever. Hermione was nowhere to be found.

One of the compartments at the end of the train opened and Pansy Parkinson stepped out, fixing her short black hair in the reflection of the glass. She turned and made eye contact with Ginny. Her face melted into a scowl.

"What are you staring at, Weaselette?" She sneered.

Ginny smirked at her. "Good to know you can't think of insults without Malfoy," she replied. "Where is your disgusting ferret leader anyway?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Weasel, but he isn't coming back," Parkinson said. "He has…_better _things to do."

"You mean he was just scared of what people would say when they knew he was a slimy Death Eater?" Ginny answered innocently. "Yeah, I might be scared too."

Parkinson's wand was in Ginny's throat before she could blink. "You want to try that again, blood traitor?"

Ginny smiled through the pressure in her throat. "I think you heard me."

Ginny's hand wrapped tightly around her wand in her pocket. "What are you gonna do, Parkinson?" She hissed. "Hex me? Go for it, we all know you're a Slytherin. Slytherin's are only good for hiding behind more powerful people. Just ask Malfoy."

Parkinson's mouth twisted in rage and Ginny whipped her wand out, muttering the incantation for the Bat Bogey Hex as she did. Pansy screamed in pain and terror as she struggled to get back in the compartment. Ginny smirked and walked away, but inside she was as confused as ever. Hermione and Malfoy were both missing?

Something was definitely wrong here.


End file.
